


high hopes

by Colordrained



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Chaptered, Cutting, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Guardian Angel Castiel, M/M, Non-Hunter Dean, Normal Life, Sad Dean, Sadness, Self Harm, Souls, Supernatural AU: Not Hunters, cas is basically assigned to help dean, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2013-10-18
Packaged: 2017-12-29 17:41:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1008222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colordrained/pseuds/Colordrained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He will always be the man who bleeds himself into happiness.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>((dean hates himself and castiel is sent to renew his hope))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this is alright. It's only my 2nd spn fic, but I just really wanted this plot. It'll be 3 chapters at most. Title is a kodaline song, it's grEAT go listen to it. Yep

He can feel his cheeks flush, deep; a wave of warmth and good floods over his skin. His head tips backs and he exhales. Grits his teeth as the pain rings through his ankle.

And then the relief is gone.

He flips the blade over in his fingers, fiddles with it for just a moment. It's small- he took it from the pencil sharpener he keeps in his office drawer. He twirls it around for just a second, lines it up in a spot parallel to the cut he just made. This one isn't as deep, but it still makes his head a little clearer. 

Tears sting at his eyes- not good ones. Mad ones. He blinks them away. Dean Winchester does not cry. He can't. He just can't reduce himself to that. 

He can cut this pain out of himself, and then he can be okay. Everything is always okay after four or seven or thirty cuts. This time, he makes it to thirty six. His inner ankles are red and achy when he drops the blade on the tile floor. 

There's a little blood on the floor, a lot on his ankles. He smiles, closes his eyes. His mind is clear. He's content. 

•

It's always this time of night. It's always after he's come home from his dumb job and sat in his dumb leather recliner and drank some dumb beer and them realized he's living a dumb life. He's never going to be anything. He's never going to live up to his brother- the Standford graduate. 

Dean Winchester will just be the failure. The man who was not talented enough to do anything useful with himself. He will just be the man who draws a blade across his arm to think clearly. To get the panic and hurt out of his mind. He will always be the man who bleeds himself into happiness.

That's all he can think every time this happens. And he does cry, this time. Because fuck; he's tired. He's tired of everything. And sometimes he thinks maybe he should just end it all but he can't. He isn't brave enough for that. And so he just drags the little blade across his arm three more times, and he squeezes the blade tight between his fingers and cries. He runs a hand through his hair and pulls, harsh, trying to make it all stop. And for a very short moment he thinks maybe, just maybe, he could dig this blade deep enough into his left wrist to bleed out. 

Then just like that, the courage is gone. 

He throws the blade across the room, gets up off the floor. 

His eyes are dull and his pupils are dilated. His jaw flutters and his fists clench. An incredible sense of worthlessness floods over him. 

•

Dean Winchester stops talking. He stops eating for the most part. He stops trying. At anything and everything. If it takes energy, it is useless to him. He's existing. But he will never live. He cannot live.  
Because when he lives, he hurts. And he can't deal with the hurt much longer.

•

It's two weeks since that time he cried. He dug the blade a bit too deep into his ankle this time, and the blood won't stop. And for the first time, he's scared of himself. Of what he's doing.

"For fucks sake," he mutters, head falling back to lean against the wall, "why?" It's gruff and mad. And then the tears.

"Why does no one fucking care?" He gets out, barely. His voice is weak from lack of use.

"Why can't anyone hear me?" He chokes out, and slouches down to the floor. He curls up in a ball and stops caring about his bleeding ankle. He wants to scream. And he is about to scream. 

But then he feels a presence. Not- not like a normal, 'someone is watching me' thing. More of a warmth in the room. A comfort. And when he opens his eyes, barely, there's a man. 

"Do not fear, Dean." The man says, his voice deep and oddly relaxing. Dean doesn't even know what to do. He's past caring. His head falls back down to the floor.

He feels a touch on his ankle, and all the pain stops. The cuts vanish. Not just the cuts on his ankles. The scars on his wrist. They all disappear.

Dean sits up, then. 

"Who the hell are you?" He asks the man, but stares only at his wrists. 

The man sits down next to him, his coat brushes Dean's leg.

"I am an angel of The Lord. My name is Castiel. And I have come because you are deeply, unbearably troubled. More so than most humans."

Dean actually chuckles, because that's pathetic. He's screwed up so bad that an angel has had to come and save him. And furthermore- he's insane. Because angels are not real. None of this is real. He probably passed out from loss of blood. Maybe he's dead. What an awful heaven. What a horrible, sick kind of paradise.

"This is not heaven, Dean." Castiel says. Dean eyes him. He read his mind. 

Yes. Dean is definitely unconscious. And insane. Very, very insane.

"You are neither, Dean. I can assure you I am real. And you are worth more than this, Dean Winchester." The angel stands up, pulls Dean to his feet. 

"You're not real. I know this is all fake." Dean says.

Castiel cocks his head, "Why? Why do you not believe what I am saying?" 

Dean chuckles, "this is pathetic." He turns and walks out the bathroom door, back into his living room. And he grabs another beer, sits back down on the couch. The angel follows him, takes a seat next to him. 

"What can I do to prove that you are, in fact, conscious, and I am, in fact, real? And an angel." 

Dean looks at the man. "The thing I can't figure out, is why in the hell am I dreaming about some angel in a trench coat? Sure, I'm a messed up guy, but. This doesn't make sense." 

Castiel closes his eyes in a look of frustration. He pulls Dean off the couch and Dean realizes Cas has the blade in his hand- the small little blade from the pencil sharpener. He takes Dean's arm, palm side up, into his hand.

"You are not dreaming, Dean. You would not react like this if you were dreaming."

Castiel makes a short, sharp cut into Dean's forearm. Dean's eyelids flutter shut and his head tips back. "God, that is so much better when someone else does it."

Castiel heals him immediately, "the purpose of that was to show you that you are awake. Do you believe me, Dean?" 

Dean eyes him carefully, "I feel like I should be more shocked by this. But...yeah. I guess." 

Castiel nods, "good. This is going well, then."

"Well?" Dean chuckles. 

Castiel stares at him. "Yes. Most people try to harm me as soon as I appear. You have been very accepting."

Dean shrugs, heads over to the kitchen to get his good liquor out. He needs it. "Don't really care honestly. You aren't trying to rob me or kill me, so. May as well enjoy the company." 

Castiel nods and takes a seat on the couch again, "thank you." 

Dean brings over two coffee mugs half filled with the best he's got. 

"S'not that great, but it's better than the cheap beer." Dean says, handing one to Castiel. The angel stares at the contents of the cup. 

"Um. I do not consume alcohol, Dean. I don't consume anything, actually." 

Dean looks at him with one eyebrow cocked, "it's not gonna kill you. Might as well drink it. Knocks the edge off, you know." 

Dean returns his attention to the television, but Castiel keeps talking.

"What edge? I do not understand."

Dean gives him a look, "I'm sure you're stressed, if this is what you do for a living. Going around saving pathetic people like me. It'll take some of the stress away." 

"You are not pathetic Dean. If you were pathetic I would not bother spending this time on you." 

Dean shakes his head and sips the liquor. He watches Castiel out of the corner of his eye: the angel downs all of it in one go. 

Dean nearly chokes. Castiel sets the empty cup on the table and looks at him. 

Dean doesn't really know what to say. "Guess you aren't as much of a lightweight as you seem, huh?" He jokes.

"I am...slightly lighter feeling. My head feels a bit warm. In a good way, I think." 

Dean shakes his head and laughs, "you're something else."

Castiel looks confused, "I am an angel." 

Dean smirks and takes another sip. "About that. What exactly are you planning on doing with me, mm? You don't honestly think you're gonna fix me or whatever, right?" 

Castiel clasps his hands together. "Are you listening, Dean? Truly listening?" 

Dean quirks an eyebrow, "um. Yes?"

"You have an entirely false perception of yourself, Dean Winchester. It is distorted to a degree that I have not yet encountered with another human. You think more lowly of yourself than I thought possible. And like I said, it is a false perception. You are very important to this world, Dean. You are not a failure. Most of all, you do not deserve what you're doing to yourself. So yes. I will help you fix this. We will, even if you do not believe." 

Dean sits and drinks in the way he talks. The way he seems so sure and certain, and how he's trying to hard to reassure Dean. Too bad it's not working.

"Dean." Castiel says, stern, and slightly pained, "you must stop thinking like that. I am an angel. I _will_ help you." 

Dean buries his face in his palms. "Did you ever think maybe I don't want help, Castiel?" 

Castiel shakes his head, "you want help. You may like cutting, Dean. I accept that. But that is not the problem. I simply want you to realize how valuable you are. How wrong your self image is." 

Dean wants a few cuts. That's all he can think. 

"If you want, I will hand you this blade. You can cut if you would like." 

Dean nods, bites his lip. He feels unbearable guilt, though, taking the blade into his fingers. He flips it around a few times before handing it back. 

"Would you do it? Just. Just one, I think. Make it good though." He offers his forearm to Castiel. At first the angel looks apprehensive, but then wraps his hand around Dean's wrist. 

"I will heal you of this in five minutes, okay, Dean?" 

Dean grumbles a bit unappreciatively but then says, "fine." He closes his eyes and waits. 

The pain is so, so much better. It's unexpected and not so hesitant, it's a full cut and it digs just deep enough. 

Dean sputters incoherent syllables for a second before biting down on his lip. He actually groans a bit. It's euphoric. It drains all the confusion from his mind. 

"Thank you...thanks. Shit." It's deeper than he would normally do it, and there's a small drip of blood from his arm. He lets it bleed onto his jeans. "One more? Please." 

The sting rings hot through his skin again. He muffles the groan this time, just curses out a sharp, "fuck." 

"Did that help?" Castiel asks. 

Dean nods, swallows, "yeah. Yeah, sorry. I just. Needed a bit of clarity, I guess." 

Castiel nods, "that is not insane to ask." 

Dean takes another sip of his drink. "Right. About this whole 'fixing Dean' thing. I...I guess I can't say I don't believe you, because you're- I mean, you're an angel. But-"

"But you do not have faith that I will follow through. You think I will abandon you once I realize how you truly think." Castiel finishes for him. 

Dean blinks. "Everyone does, so. Yeah. I think you'll run away." He shrugs.

"That is where you are mistaken. I see you for Dean Winchester, not the failure you think of yourself. I will not leave." 

Dean chuckles, "guess we'll just wait and see, mm?" 

Castiel simply runs his fingers over the wounds, and then they're gone. A sense of purity settles in Dean.

•

Dean should find a stranger standing in his bedroom while he sleeps unsettling, at the least. He probably should not doze off to sleep faster than he ever has before with Castiel staring at him from the corner. But there's just the warmth to Castiel; this truth and wholeness that Dean can't really understand. He just knows that it's so, so much safer and his mind can finally rest, for once. Safety. That is what Castiel brings. 

Cas listens to these thoughts, and smiles, small. This is good. Maybe he should not grow fond of humans, especially ones who are set on angry tendencies, but nonetheless he feels a pull in his heart when he hears these thoughts. He likes being around Dean. In a way, it brings Castiel a sense of security. Of solid ground and home and certainty.

And just maybe this isn't all about helping Dean. Maybe it's about finding a forever and a means to it.


	2. let it go, go out and start again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a bit shorter than the last, but I'm trying to push myself to finish things, even if they're small. So here it is! There will definitely be at least 1 more chapter. Enjoy? Haha

Castiel did not exactly mean to watch Dean the entire night, but the time went so fast that it happened anyway. Castiel found this to be true: the longer you were in existence, the faster the time passed. It seemed like merely a few seconds before the sun was peeking back over the clouds, painting Dean's face a golden-pink from the light filtering through the windows. Castiel stands as Dean blinks his eyes open, awakening slowly. And then he sits up with a jolt, startled by Castiel's presence. 

" _Jesus Chr_ \-- Oh. Cas," he lets out a short sigh, "um. Forgot you were there."

Castiel nods , approaches the bed. "We need to talk, Dean. About how-- about how often I am around, and when I come to you."

" You don't just, you know, stay? Like. All the time?" 

"No, I worry that that would cause you to develop a dependence on me. We cannot let that happen, because eventually I will leave, and you must be able to be content when I am not around."

Dean nods once, "yeah. Um. Can I just-" he takes a breath, looks around the room. "Let me make us some breakfast, okay? I gotta wake up a bit more for this." 

Castiel merely stares, "Dean, I do not eat, I have told you this-"

"Cas. I'll be in the kitchen in, like, three minutes. Okay?" 

Castiel just turns and exits the room. 

•

"So. So you leave for a while, go and do your heavenly crap or whatever- and if I need you, I just. Just say your name?" Dean looks at him. 

"Yes, And I will always arrive Dean. Likewise, if I ever see that you are in immense pain, I will come." 

Dean nods and takes another bite of bacon. Castiel's three pieces remain untouched.

"Dude. You gonna eat that?" 

Cas acquires a deeply annoyed look, " _Dean_ , how many times-"

"Relax, relax. Don't want you ruffling your feathers" Dean grabs his plate and proceeds to eat Cas's share of bacon. Cas merely scowls at his childish insults. 

And then Dean finishes eating and they sit there for a minute, and Dean wants to say it. He does. But it's hard. 

It's hard because he tells himself that he should not say things like this. The minimal amount of emotion in his life is good, and he would like to keep it like that. 

But he has to. He can't _not_. 

"Thank you. For-- for this. Like," he clears his throat, "I know it's, like, your job, or whatever. But. I mean... I'm just, I guess-"

"I know, Dean."

"Right," Dean says, remembering the mind-reading thing. "Right. Um. Well, that. So... thanks for that."

For the first time around Dean, Castiel smiles. It is small and it is just barely what one would consider a grin, but it is there, and Dean sees it. 

"It is my pleasure, Dean."

•

Cas is gone for most of the day, and because it is a Saturday, Dean stays at home. He tries fixing up the house a bit; making it look like he has always wanted. However, making the small, dark apartment look like his dream home was something like trying to paint the sunset with only one shade of orange. And so he tried, and it did become much more home-like rather than house-like, but just like most days, he reached that point. It was hanging up his two guitars on the wall; realizing that he never even tried to pursue his dreams. That here he is with all these ambitions and feelings and ideas and yet he just lives this insignificant life. The world minus Dean Winchester would still be the same world. He practically collapses with self-loathing. 

"Fuck." Is the first thing he says, because no, not now. Not when he's been okay all day. Not when he's got Cas to prove himself to. But still the black seeps into his mind, and soon he's livid at himself. 

He tries to breathe, to hum to himself, to do anything but give in. But then there is a rustle of feathers and,

"Dean." Castiel's voice is concerned and sorry. 

Dean whirls around, looks him in the eye, and tries not to hate himself even more for disappointing yet someone else. 

"Dean Winchester. Stop. I am not disappointed-"

Dean shakes his head, "Just _don't_ , okay? Just don't try and lie me into feeling better. Just. Let me have this. Let me hate myself for something, Cas. I need it. It's me. And it's sure as hell not what I want to be, but it is. I am centered around hating myself, okay? It's just how I live. It motivates me. Is that so bad? Huh? Can't I just have that?" It occurs to Castiel that he can barely speak, his emotions are so strong. 

The last syllable rings through the apartment. Sadness settles itself into the air.

And then there is something happening that Dean is completely unfamiliar with. 

Castiel is hugging him. 

Dean just freezes. He doesn't like this. Not one bit. He is foreign to comfort in every way, and completely opposed to it. The hug is not warm or reassuring or anything that a hug should be.

Except maybe- maybe it is. Maybe it is something Dean longs for. When he's all alone every damn day of his life. Maybe he just simply wants at the end of the day for someone to take him in close and not let him go. 

He does not know which of these he feels, honestly. But he does not hug back. 

"Dean. It won't kill you to hug me. It is a basic form of human comfort. It is natural to want, and it-"

"Cas. Hush." 

Castiel silences, slightly hurt. But slowly, Dean's arms slip around Cas. Gradually, they conform to each other, and Dean feels almost surrounded by a nice warmth.

And Dean decides that okay, yes. Maybe this is needed. Maybe not wanted, but it sure as hell helps.

Pretty soon, the black is all gone from Dean's mind. 

The post-hug glance is sufficiently uncomfortable, but it's okay. Because the hug itself was very revealing to Dean. He needs things like that. Maybe he wasn't as indestructible as he made himself out to be. Maybe he needs someone to come in and break down all the walls and show him that emotion is okay, even more so, _helpful_. 

So Cas just says, "are you okay?" Although he can sense what Dean is feeling (the feeling is not-quite-okay-but-almost-tolerable-and-so-he-is-okay-in-this-moment) 

Dean takes a collective breath and nods, "yeah. Yeah, I'm... thanks, Cas." And yes, he is uncomfortable; completely uncomfortable. But he knows that this is normal. This is good. 

Cas nods, short. "I have known that an embrace can greatly comfort a human, but I still find it fascinating just _how much_ it does." Castiel is staring off into space, and you can practically see the thoughts weaving through his mind. 

"Okay, lets just. Not. Like. Bring that up, okay?" 

Castiel looks confused for a moment, but then he must see what Dean is saying because a look of understanding settles into him. 

"If you wish, Dean. But I can assure you-"

" _Cas_ "

"Right, yes. I apologize." 

Dean turns back around to his guitars, fixing them so that they look perfect.

"You play the guitar?" Castiel asks, even though he already knows the answer. He has found that asking these types of questions makes humans feel important to one another, and so he usually tries to engage in this sort of conversation with whichever human he is assigned. 

"Yeah, I mean. I'm okay, but I'm not great. And I'm not, like, being modest," he runs his fingers over the strings, "m'just average." 

 

And suddenly Castiel understands Dean. 

 

And he's unsure how he should approach this, but he feels like he should definitely say something. And so he takes a breath, and just says it, "I think understand you, now, Dean." 

Dean stops moving, just sort of returns his hands to his sides. He turns around, a look of curiosity on his face. "And why do you think that?" 

Castiel finds himself at a loss for words, because he understands, he does. But there aren't really _words_. It's just an understanding. "You- with the guitars. You genuinely believe you are average. You are not trying to be more or less or impressive or lazy; you just accept yourself as average. That is- that is you, Dean Winchester. You accept yourself as average and hate it, every bit of your average self, and you are stuck in this place where you cannot even imagine yourself as more. You are constantly switching between self-loathing and nostalgia of the future. You don't hate living; you just cannot stand the fact that you are nothing out-of-the-ordinary." 

Cas stops speaking, because he can see Dean's jaw clenching. Castiel can see and feel the ache of hurt deep inside him. He can see that he is undoubtedly correct, and that means Dean is definitely not okay anymore. 

But Dean does not do anything. The black doesn't seep into his mind. He just stands there, feeling like all the world's secrets have been uncovered and that they revealed something tragic. Dean feels more hopeless than he has ever felt, because here is this angel, telling him exactly what he already knows. He is ordinary. 

For the first time, Dean Winchester feels inadequate to his very core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooooooo comments are great xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you say this is too unrealistic, I feel like Dean reduced himself to extremely desperate for any sort of love in this chapter. Also, my goal is to make sure Dean doesn't become dependent on Cas , bc that isn't what should happen in relationships. Other than that, enjoy the extreme fluff.

When Castiel looks at Dean for the rest of that night, he feels an emotion that he has never felt this strongly before. He feels helpless. Dean is right there, hurting to his very core, and Castiel can't to a damn thing about it. 

Dean has a few drinks and Castiel merely sits on the sidelines, lets Dean do this to himself simply because he can't do anything. And then it occurs to him that he can. 

"Dean," Cas breaks the silence in the room, "Dean. We're going to stop this all tonight. This will be the last evening that you feel this sort of pain." 

Dean blinks at him, "leave." 

Castiel merely blinks back. That's not what Dean was supposed to say. 

He walks over to where Dean is on the sofa, and looks at him, "Dean. Don't say that. I know you need-"

"Castiel. Leave. I can't do this." Dean says.

Castiel is pretty sure that he is incapable of crying, but right now he's also pretty sure he could if he wanted. Dean's voice is the most heartbreaking sound he's ever heard. It's deflated and careless. It's not even harsh, it's just sad, in every sense. 

"Please, Cas. Just leave. I can't do this, I don't want to bring you down, just leave. Don't worry about me, okay? I'll be fine. Please- just. Don't come back."

He won't look at Cas, and something tells Cas that's because he can't. Castiel feels like he is running out of options. 

"Dean," and that time Dean looks up, because Cas's voice gives. "Dean, come on." 

Castiel can feel his eyes stinging. He sits down next to Dean on the sofa, puts his hand on Dean's leg. 

"Dean. Just. Understand something. I have observed humans for so many years; it would be an inconceivable amount to you. But I have not ever felt so overpowered by one. Your soul, Dean... It's just. It's so powerful. In every way. In every way it is so bright. Dean, I can't possibly express to you how important you are. Every human is, but you... I don't even know _why_ , Dean, I just know that you're so much more significant than you know. And I can't- I cannot stand to see you treat yourself like this. Your thoughts are so awful, Dean, and they're all wrong. I'm- I'm not good at communicating with you, so I don't know if I'm making any sense, but I guess what I'm meaning... Please, stop this. For not only you, but for me." 

Cas realizes that Dean is crying. Softly, silently, painfully crying. 

"Just. For five minutes, can you go in the other room? Just five minutes, that is all I'm asking." Dean asks, head in his hands. 

Cas nods, goes into Dean's bedroom. 

Dean sits and cries, he has no clue why, but the tears escape him like they have no plans to stop. He doesn't know what to do, and he's scared as hell, and, god, his life is a broken record. He tries to get himself to stop crying, sips on some ice water, and finds a blade. Four shallow cuts to his arm later, he realizes it's not doing anything. 

And then it dawns on him that he longs for, more than anything, one more embrace from that stupid angel. 

• 

In Dean's bedroom, Cas thinks about what he's got to do. Because this has to stop. And yet, it has to stop in a manner that is permanent, and that does not involve Dean being dependent on Castiel. He thinks about why Dean is like he is, and then it occurs to him. 

Dean has no one in his life that could care about him in the slightest. That is why Dean feels so worthless; he has no one to make him feel otherwise. Additionally, he's unsatisfied with how he lives. But that could be fixed. Castiel can help him come up with things to improve his life. But the people thing...

See, this discovery should make Castiel feel a lot better. But it is yet one more issue. Who in the world can just pop into Dean Winchester's life and cherish him for all that he is? No one, that's who. No one else knows the treasures of Dean. No one else knows how gorgeous his soul is, or how truly endless he is. No one except Castiel can see Dean in his fullest. And so who? 

Castiel inhales sharply. 

Oh.

• 

Dean practically bursts into the bedroom, tears no longer on his face, his arm a bit bloody. 

Castiel looks him up and down, and knows from his thoughts what he wants rather immediately. He walks over to Dean slowly, gently runs his fingers over the cuts. They disappear. 

"It didnt work," Dean says, "the cuts. It didnt work." He doesn't sound scared or anything, surprisingly. Dean clears his throat, "I was wondering, um, if. Maybe-"

"Dean," Cas cuts him off, "I know-"

"No, Cas, just. I just want-"

" _Dean_. I know." 

Cas puts one of his hands behind Dean's neck; laces his fingers through the slight hairs. The other hand slips around Dean's waist and pulls him in. Castiel knows he's not the most graceful being, but he thinks he did pretty well this time. 

Dean melts right into him: head burrows into the spot where Cas's neck meets his shoulder, arms wrap tight around his chest, he breathes. And god, he's at home. 

"Thank you," he gets out, "Just."

Cas just shushes him gently, and Dean takes that opportunity to be quiet. 

It lasts too long. It's really needed, honestly, but it's way too long, compared to typical hug standards. Dean, however, finds himself not caring in the slightest. Instead he just holds onto Cas and whispers into his skin. 

"Why does this help so much? Why do I want to do this, just, all the time? I don't hug people, Cas. So why do I hug you?"

A smile tugs Cas's lip up. "I'd like to say it's because I'm an angel, but I don't think that's the case, Dean. I think... I think you need this. I think that right now, you need to depend on someone else for just a little. Just a few weeks. And then I think you need to learn independence and self-love. And so then you can feel this content on your own. As for right now, though, you need comfort."

Dean hums, "well. This is pretty freakin' girly, but I'm not gonna stop hugging you. It's safe. And I just need safe." 

Cas nods slightly, "do not be embarrassed, Dean. I understand. I know that this is outside of your typical interactions with people. I understand that you do not normally open up like this to people. But you will be okay soon, Dean."

Dean breathes, and says it, "Cas? If we go lay down and fall asleep like this, can we never talk about it again and pretend it never happened?" 

Cas smiles and shakes his head, "I am sorry that you deny yourself of positive emotions. But yes, Dean. Even though I cannot actually fall asleep, as you know, I am a celestial-"

"I know, Cas. You've told me before."

"Good. I suppose we should separate momentarily?"

Dean chuckles and pulls away. He looks at Cas, and he can feel the heat of the blood in his face, but he nods once, "thank you." 

Cas nods back. 

Dean looks around the room, "um. I'm gonna put some shorts and a t-shirt on to sleep in. Just lay down, I guess." 

"Okay, Dean," Cas says. 

Dean grabs a white scoop neck and some comfy black athletic shorts, and heads into the bathroom to change. 

After he does so, he looks in the mirror for a second. He has just asked to cuddle with a man for the night. He just hugged a man for, like, 7 minutes. An angel. A very masculine angel. What the hell. 

He just smiles though. Who cares. He'll wake up and forget it all, and it'll be ok. 

He walks back into the room to find Cas in the bed, a pillow smushed to his face. "These pillows smell very strongly of you, Dean." Cas says. 

Dean laughs as he turns off the light, "makes sense, Cas, because I sleep on them." 

Dean slides under the covers and immediately searches out Cas's figure. His fingers connect with Cas's bicep. 

"There you are," Dean mumbles, and Cas leans in to him a bit. Dean curls himself straight into Cas, head in Cas's neck, arm around Cas's waist, and legs brushing Cas's. 

"It's very dark in here, Dean." 

"Yeah." 

"Am I doing okay?" 

Dean smiles. "Relax. Just cuddle up, man. We aren't gonna care about anything right now. We're gonna go against everything I believe in and cuddle the hell out of each other. No half-assed cuddling." 

Cas smirks. Dean is rather interesting, isn't he? 

Cas melts into him a bit, and Dean sighs contently. "S'better," he says.

And then after a couple seconds of silence, "Cas? Um...would you-"  
"Yes, Dean, I am glad to tell you more about your soul." 

Dean isn't used to that still. "I just. Describe how it looks, and moves, and stuff." His voice is heavy with sleep. 

Cas breathes in and starts describing; slowly, calmly, hoping his voice will help Dean sleep. 

"Your soul is probably the most gorgeous ones I've seen. Except- my brother, Gabriel's- his soul is almost as beautiful. His is much more... yellow. His cracks and pops like fireworks. His is bright and overwhelmingly full of joy. Yours is... yours is velvet, Dean. It's velvet, but also ink. Yes, those two are perfect descriptions."

Dean interrupts him, "you're talking different. You've been doing that. One second you'll be speaking like an angel, and then it's casual."

Cas takes a second to realize that he's right. "You're right...I hadn't noticed that. I'm not sure why I do that." 

Dean chuckles softly, "s'okay, Cas. Keep talking." 

"Yours is the strangest mix of color I've ever seen. The most prominent is red. Not a bright, alarming red. A cool red that you would see in a rich oil painting. It's warm and deep and fluent. It laces through in large ribbons, flowing and twisting and wrapping people in. It's why people are drawn to you. The red represents many things, but most of all, passion. You have a small amount of blue in you, Dean. There is a pastel, powder-blue thread that weaves in and out of your soul. I'd like to think that's the sentiment of you. Small and delicate, but omnipresent. And then there is the gold. Light flicks of it. Little sparkles, here and there. Bright, but not too bright. I think that's the bravery. The true strength you hold. It appears in most places, but it's in flashes. And the purple. Royal purple, the deepest purple you could imagine. It always lingers. Just a soft glow, more like a disposition. That's your loyalty, I know it is. You haven't gotten to express it, I don't think, but it's there. All that's the velvet part of your soul. Then there's the ink. It spreads and spreads; it's contagious, Dean. Black Ink. Unbelievably black ink. It's gorgeous. It flows and floods and drips, and most importantly, it taints all the souls near it. Not only do you draw people in, Dean, but you leave a part of yourself in everyone. That's how incredible your soul is. You are selfless and giving, even down to your soul. Every person you encounter remembers you, even if it's only in the slightest. The last part of your soul is the center. Bright, pure light. White. Innocence. Flawlessness. It is in your core. It is small, but it shines through your whole soul, the light filtering through the strands of color. You glow, Dean Winchester. You are radiant. No one could ever take that away from you. You can sit there and cry and reduce yourself to nothing in your mind; but your soul will still glow. That's not the end of it, either. It's massive. I think humans have the expression... like, a personality can fill a whole room. Well, your soul literally does. Your soul occupies so much space, Dean. Like I've said before; it touches everyone. I have never seen anything like it. Gabriel's soul is large, but not...not like yours. I know you're different, Dean. You mean something far beyond what you know."

Dean is almost asleep. He's half-concious, pretty much. He still manages a weak little, "Cas?"

To which Cas hums, "Mm?"

"C'n you play with m'hair?" He mumbles. Castiel smirks. 

He laces his fingers through Dean's hair. In response, Dean makes a happy-seeming noise.

So Cas plays with his hair, and continues, "what baffles me more than the beauty of your soul is your physical appearance. You're perfect in many ways, Dean. Your soul is just the start of it." 

Cas can tell Dean is asleep now. 

But after a moment he continues anyways, "I think maybe I sort of fell in love with your soul when I saw it. Not- not you, per se. Just your soul. It's captivating." 

And then it's silent.

" _You_ are captivating, Dean. You are."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it was alright? Except this story to continue for a few more chapters x

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it was okay?????? Thanks for reading man (((I love comments)))


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